Overdue
by LogicalDreamer
Summary: "Well, Gott, Mattie, at least look someone in the eye when you tell them you're a ghost. Make a good impression!" Series of oneshots, T for swearing.
1. Behind Locked Doors

To say the library's exterior lacked charm was an understatement.

With peeling paint, poorly concealed graffiti decorating the plain walls and only a rickety old sign advertising its name (_From Cover to Cover_, officially, but time had stolen the _m_ and _r_), the place could hardly be considered appealing. The deserted parking lot to the left and overgrown field to the right, both littered with cigarette butts, did not contribute anything positive to the scene.

But, as they say, desperate times call for desperate measures, and "desperate" was certainly a term befitting Gilbert at the moment (not that he'd ever admit it). His brother was obviously too lazy to go out and get his stupid book himself, and Gilbert's serious lack of a To Do list meant that he was sent on the errand. Upon stumbling across the decrepit old bookstore, Gilbert had sincere hope that it would have the book he needed and no further trips to larger, busier libraries would be necessary (_Damn_ Ludwig for not letting him order online!).

So, shoving the smudged door open, he stepped in with a grin and eyed the place.

The building was small, but in a cozy rather than suffocating way. Tall bookshelves that nearly grazed the ceiling lined the walls, while two shorter ones stood in the middle, creating three rows altogether. All were filled to bursting with books upon books upon books, most in need of rebinding or perhaps full reprint. A tiny counter squatted directed to the left, housing a dusty pile of old newspapers, magazines, and a few paperbacks missing their covers.

Altogether, the place looked like it hadn't been touched since the Teutonic Knights were formed.

Gilbert was fine with that.

As long as the fucking book was here.

Hoping he wouldn't have to do too much digging, Gilbert glanced toward the counter. There was no one behind it, but the soft rustling of paper could be heard from the vicinity of the floor, so he leaned over the edge to peer at whoever the store manager must be.

The thin, short young man didn't notice him in the slightest, too absorbed in a heavily-dogeared edition of...some Russian book. Spying an excellent opportunity, Gilbert smirked and took a deep breath.

"ANYONE HOOOOMME?!"

The man let out a shriek, shooting up from the floor and nearly tripping over a pair of too-long legs in the process. One hand slammed the poor book on the counter for safekeeping while the other remained pressed against his chest, trying to calm his erratic breathing.

"Oh, I am so sorry! I didn't notice you come in, and...You, ah, you startled me," he panted, nervously wringing his hands.

Gilbert grinned.

"Good, so a guy can get some help around here."

"Right, uh..." The clerk smiled nervously and set his book somewhere behind the counter more gently. "Can I help you with anything, sir?"

To business.

"Yeah, I need a book on Italian cooking. Anything pasta related, actually. Got anything like that?"

"Oh, well, yes, we do. Here, let me just show you..." The young man (his name tag read _Toris_ but it was dangling from his shirtfront after the incident and therefore too much bother to read) wiggled his way out from behind the counter and walked quickly to one of the wall shelves in the corner. "Here is the nonfiction area - you'll find self help books on the left and cookbooks on the bottom shelf. Just let me know if you have any questions, okay?"

Already wincing at the painfully large collection of cookbooks, Gilbert merely grunted in response and reluctantly pulled out the first book in sight, creatively titled _Little Italy_.

It was dark outside when he looked up again.

This was clearly not Gilbert's fault. He didn't even like reading all that much, aside from Prussian history and the occasional magazine. But after looking through the first few cookbooks, it became obvious that they weren't in alphabetical order, _as any shitty excuse for a library should be_, and he just couldn't leave it like that. It wasn't as if that nervous clerk cared anyway - he would be thankful of Gilbert's awesome decision to reorganize the books.

...Where was said nervous clerk?

Shoving the final book into place, Gilbert jumped to his feet, stretching to get the kinks out, and stalked back to the counter to find the elusive man. No such luck. Thinking back, he vaguely remembered hearing the door to the shop opening and shutting, with the keys rattling and someone muttering about easily irritated girlfriends and intimidating landlords, but he obviously hadn't been paying attention at the time.

Neither, apparently, had the clerk.

"Fucking hell!" Gilbert swore, shaking the (locked from the outside, naturally) door in frustration and eventually resorting to kicking it.

_Damn_ being related to Ludwig!

The situation wasn't that bad, really. He'd been in worse. There was that time in high school when he spent the night in a science classroom on a dare - luckily, there had been Bunsen burners and third period's quizzes to entertain him for a long while. Then there was that time where he, Francis, and Toni had been locked in a closet together by a seething Arthur swearing revenge on the Frenchman. Again, nearly endless entertainment - even after Toni fell asleep and Francis tried to coerce him into planning seductive retaliation against Arthur.

And that time he locked himself in the garage with the outdoor freezer dedicated to their entire beer supply? He didn't exactly remember what he had done then, but he was sure it was entertaining.

But this? A library? He was not going to read for the next twelve hours! He didn't even have his phone with him (_"You'll get distracted," his brother growled, pushing him out the door._)

Okay. Fine. He would just break out. Luddy got him in here, Luddy's credit card could get him out.

Immediately putting his foolproof plan into action, he searched for the heaviest, most morbidly obese book he could find. He didn't have to look much farther than a large print, fully illustrated version of _Les Miserables_ (Oh, Francis would _strangle_ him if he knew).

Raising the book over his head with more difficulty than he was willing to admit, he braced himself with one foot, leaning back just enough for some extra momentum, and-

"Please don't do that."

With an unmanly shriek of surprise, Gilbert did as he was told and dropped the book.

Right on his big toe.

"_Ficken, was zur Hölle war das? Und warum hast du mich einsperren in, du schwein? Scheiße, das tut weh this_!" *

Clutching his injured toe, Gilbert hopped on one foot and turned to glare (and possibly smack) the offending clerk. Unfortunately, it was not the clerk behind him, and he was robbed of his justified beating. Instead, the young man standing calmly behind him had wavy blonde hair that just brushed his chin, and small, round glasses. His clothes were baggy and worn, hanging loosely on a thin frame. Gilbert thought he looked altogether too pleased with himself for startling him.

"Who the fuck are you?" he spat, standing up straight on both feet, even though it sent another jolt of pain through his foot. "I thought I was the only one locked in here."

The stranger shifted his weight, eyes scanning Gilbert up and down warily.

"I'm not exactly 'locked in' the way you are."

Gilbert groaned. Vague answers were going to get him nowhere.

"But you don't know how to get us out, do you?"

Shoulders slumping even more, the young man averted his eyes.

"Yeah, that's what I thought. How did you even get in here, anyway? I thought I was by myself."

"You also thought you wouldn't get yourself locked in."

Gilbert narrowed his eyes and stomped right up to the man, the thudding of his combat boots muffled by the dusty books around them.

"Listen to me, kid. We're stuck in here together, and I'm gonna break out if I want to break out, so don't. Fuck. With me. Got it?"

The man didn't even flinch, straightening his posture (he was actually a bit taller) and staring levelly back at Gilbert.

"Got it."

Still glaring at the man, whose eyes were a very strange (not that he had any room to talk) blue-purple color, Gilbert slowly leaned back, evaluating his new companion with some interest. Maybe the guy wasn't so bad. Cute, even. He walked back to the door and tried jiggling the handle again before looking around for something to pick the lock.

"So why're you in here?"

The question was just an awesome (read: awkward) attempt at conversation to fill the silence; Gilbert could stand silence about as well as he stood boredom, and both were far too close for comfort.

There was a thump behind him, and Gilbert turned to see the man hurriedly restacking a pile of books, a surprised look on his face. He looked strange, fuzzy around the edges, almost as if-

"Excuse me?

"It's a simple question, kid. Want an easier one? What's your name?"

"...Matthew Williams."

Matthew left the bookshelves and moved to perch on the counter next to him, and Gilbert grinned.

"Gilbert Beilschmidt. Nice to meet me."

The blond rolled his eyes, but a ghost of a smile flitted across his face and Gilbert's grin grew.

"Well, Gilbert, I can assure you that that door isn't going to open to you or any hair clip you find."

Looking up from his position on the floor with one hand scrabbling under the desk, Gilbert frowned.

"Why shouldn't it?"

Matthew shrugged and twirled a pen between his fingers idly.

"The owner of the bookstore changed the locks just last month. The door won't open without both a key and a employee's card."

"High tech for a dump."

The pen twirling stopped, and Matthew looked uncomfortable.

"Yeah, I guess...It's just because the owner's, ah, boyfriend sometimes comes over while he's working and likes privacy for when they..."

Gilbert stared at him.

"You mean..."

He flushed slightly in embarrassment.

"Yeah..."

There was a short pause, then Gilbert burst out laughing, drumming his heels on the floor.

"_Oh mein Gott_, they do that here? I didn't know Arthur fucking worked _here_! And Franny...oh, fuck, that's hilarious..."

Matthew pouted - yes, pouted, and that only made Gilbert laugh harder - and looked away, turning an even brighter red.

"It's not that funny! It's annoying! How do you even know Arthur and Francis, eh?" His eyes widened. "Oh, maple, have you walked in on them, too?"

Spluttering with laughter, Gilbert shook his head and leaped up to sit on the counter with him.

"Nah, I already knew Arthur worked at a bookstore, being the stick in the mud he is. Just didn't know which one. And Francis is one of my best friends, as well as the only person I know that would go molest his boyfriend at his workplace. It's not surprising at all." He smirked and turned to Matthew. "So you've- wait, so did you walk on in them and that's why they changed the locks?"

Matthew averted his eyes, shoulders slumping again.

"No."

Gilbert frowned.

"Don't talk so much, jeez. Okay, so how do you know those two?"

"I've just been in here a lot. You might call it my home away from home."

"Well, damn. That's kinda lonely, isn't it?" Gilbert leaned forward in an effort to glimpse the other man's face, but got distracted by a single wayward curl that stuck out in front of his face. It was just begging to be tugged...

"It is."

"Hey, wouldn't kill you to lighten up." The albino leaned over to give the man a friendly nudge, but he quickly found that it was impossible. His shoulder didn't make contact with anything, causing him to lose his balance. Matthew quickly caught him with one hand, shoving him upright.

"Sorry."

"Whoa, whoa, what was that?!" Gilbert hopped off the counter and stared at Matthew, suddenly not sure if he had just imagined that lack of warmth or...anything. "Did you...did you move, or am I just crazy?"

Matthew grinned lopsidedly.

"You didn't imagine anything, though I can't tell yet if you're crazy or not."

Gilbert raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms.

"Excuse you, I'm awesome. Now tell me what the fuck just happened. You were right there, and then you weren't, and now you are again."

Biting his lip, Matthew looked down at his lap, looked up, and dropped his gaze again. When he spoke, his voice was unwavering, but there was a definite nervous undertone.

"What would you say if I told you I was a ghost, eh?"

Silence.

For ten seconds.

"Well, _Gott_, Mattie, at least look someone in the eye when you tell them you're a ghost. Make a good impression!"

Matthew looked up quickly, his expression a cross between elated and confused.

"Wha-"

"So what happened? Did you get murdered here or something? Oh shit, are you going to keep me here against my will and make me clean bookshelves? No, you don't seem like that kind of ghost. Three wishes? Do I at least get three wishes?"

"You...You're not freaking out that I'm a ghost?"

Gilbert hesitantly reached out to pat his back, making sure it was solid again, and then promptly thwacked it amiably, knocking the younger (how did ghost age work?) man forward.

"Why should I be? I'm not scared of ghosts, and you're a decent guy, dead or alive. Wonder why I haven't seen ghosts before, though."

Matthew recovered from the assault on his back and smiled.

"I'm not sure why you can see me at all. Most people couldn't."

" 'Couldn't?' "

"People, er, people didn't pay me much attention when I was alive, either."

The albino gave him a critical once over, making him flush, before pacing up and down in front of the counter determinedly.

"You've gotta _make_ them notice you!"

Matthew chuckled.

"You don't have much trouble with that, do you?"

Smirking proudly, Gilbert ran a hand through his snowy hair.

"It's natural for me, but I'm sure with practice, you, too, can learn the ways of the noticed. But enough about me - for now." He grabbed Matthew's hand, eliciting a surprised yelp from the other, and dragged him to the very back of the store, where the cookbooks were still sitting.

"Gilbert, what are you doing?!" Matthew asked incredulously, yanking his hand away and flushing.

"We," Gilbert started, punctuating his words with a poke to the taller man's chest, "are going to build a book fort. And you're going to entertain the awesome me and tell me about your ghosty self. Start talking."

So Matthew did.

The book fort was less than successful. All they could really make were columns that leaned right or left and eventually toppled over (one particular pile went right through Matthew and startled him) to make a mess. But with the entire night to kill, they tried and tried and tried and tried again until two solid walls of books about waist high boxed them in the corner. Matthew explained that he had died in a car accident a few years ago, and for some reason remained in the bookstore, where he had spent a great deal of his time outside the hockey rink. Gilbert explained that he lived with his brother, his brother's boyfriend, and three dogs who would make and bring you dinner if you ordered them to.

They talked long into the night, at one point degrading into a wrestling match (Matthew won, even if Gilbert swore he cheated with his "powers of ghostliness") over who had better taste in alcohol. Gilbert never seemed to lose his energy, and Matthew didn't need to sleep, even if it was habit, so they stayed up until the sun rose again, brightening the bookstore and exposing the dust and haphazard piles of books. Gilbert was lying with his legs thrown over Matthew's lap when they heard the key rattling in the lock and Toris' frustrated muttering. Matthew shoved the albino's legs off him and stood, posture wilting as he did so.

"You should go. Ludwig is probably wondering where you were all night."

"No, he's not. He's probably glad I didn't order sixteen boxes of pizza like I did last week," Gilbert laughed wryly, standing up as well.

There was an awkward silence between them, filled only by the background noise of the unaware Toris moving around behind the counter.

"Well, I guess I'll be seeing you," Matthew said quietly, eyes focused on some point behind Gilbert's head.

Gilbert opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again, and coughed, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Yeah. Well."

He turned abruptly on his heel and strode towards the counter, rapping on the counter and making poor Toris jump again.

"I-I...you..."

"You locked me in last night."

"Oh, my, I'm so-"

"Thanks."

Toris stared at him in bewilderment.

Peeking out from behind the bookshelf, Matthew grinned and waved to Gilbert, who waved back.

"It's a nice shop you've got here. I might have to grace it with my presence again sometime," he said, only half to the confused clerk.

With those parting words, Gilbert left the shop, walking quickly and mounting his motorcycle without a single glance back. It was only when he was a block from home that he remembered the Italian cooking book he never bought. _Scheiße, _Luddy would kill him!

A slow grin spread over his face.

Another visit to the bookstore would be due tomorrow.

* * *

* Fuck, what the hell was that? And why did you lock me in, you swine? Shit, this hurts!

Hello, friends. I am back! If you're following me for Homestuck and don't like Hetalia, well, I guess you'll have to look elsewhere. To everyone else - I look forward to future Hetalia fics with these two idiots and others.

This will remain a oneshot, though I may write other pieces in the same universe and post them as chapters. Reviews are always welcome!

The preview image belongs to life-writer on Tumblr.


	2. Staring Contest

"Can I touch you?"

Matthew stared at the hopeful albino, not sure if he should take the question seriously or not. "I don't know what you're used to, Gil, but I doubt that the custom of going on a date before getting physical has died out in just the past ten years."

Gilbert blinked. And then began cackling with that strange hissing sound of his. "Damn, that's not what I meant, but if you want a date and more that badly, you could've just asked!"

Matthew promptly turned bright red (it looked even brighter on his semi-transparent skin), ducking his head to hide his face behind a curtain of blond curls and fisting his hands in the hoodie sleeves. "Shut up! You know that's not what I meant!"

"But you took it that way!" Gilbert put one hand on his chest and sniffed, faking tears. "I'm so proud of you for making a sexual innuendo! My little Mattie's finally growing up!"

They were jammed into the far corner of the bookstore this time. "This time" meaning about the eighth time that month. Toris, while surprised to see Gilbert so often, let him in first thing in the morning (although Matthew had whispered that Arthur, upon hearing about it, had developed a rigorous routine of checking the shelves to make sure the mischievous albino didn't leave any unpleasant surprises for customers) and didn't ask any questions about the seemingly one-sided conversations he held. The clerk was often preoccupied with his cell phone anyway, and didn't care if loud laughter suddenly erupted from behind the bookshelves.

"What _did_ you mean, then, eh?" Matthew drew his legs up close and glared. "You can't just ask people if you can touch them!"

"Oh, so I should just go ahead and do it? If you insist."

Matthew's eyes widened, as did the smirk on Gilbert's face.

"No, no, no, that's not what I mea-"

After that Matthew could hardly form the words "help" and "stop" even if he tried, so out of breath was he from laughing uncontrollably. And Gilbert continued to tickle him mercilessly, even if it felt very strange and cold and every once in a while there was nothing there for his fingers to tickle.

The torture only ended once Gilbert's hands were up Matthew's shirt and Matthew's foot was pressed firmly against Gilbert's shoulder. Matthew's elbow had knocked against a stray pile of books, sending them toppling down.

Gilbert's hands stilled, and Matthew froze, his chest half covered with small books. They stared at each other for a moment, faces blank. Then Matthew hurriedly sat up and yanked all appendages away from Gilbert, rushing to restack the books and, most of all, will his heartbeat back to a normal rate.

"Gilbert."

There was a pause, but when Gilbert spoke, the self-satisfied grin was _audible_.

"Hmm~?"

"...From here on out you are restricted to a ten foot radius away from me, or I will use you as a test subject for ghost strength."

The threat did not deter Gilbert in the least. "Yeah, but can I touch you?"

Matthew snorted and wrapped his arms around his legs. "Let's apply what we know about a ten foot radius to this question, shall we?"

"Whoa there, Matt." Gilbert whistled. "Didn't know it was sassy Sunday."

"Why do you want to 'touch me' anyway?"

The albino shrugged, laying down on the floor and propping his feet up on the edge of a shelf. "I'm curious about you. Like why sometimes you're there and sometimes you're not."

"...And you think that touching me will help you understand ghosts and the afterlife and supernatural things?"

Gilbert shrugged again, a rakish grin playing on his lips as he stretched his arms behind his head. "Maybe, maybe not. I get to touch you at any rate."

Matthew rolled his eyes. "Single minded, aren't you?" He sighed and ran a hand through his tangled curls. "I...I guess you can. No funny business, though."

Raising his eyebrows, Gilbert watched the blond carefully. "Seriously?"

Matthew nodded, biting his lip and holding his arm out. He shyly met Gilbert's gaze before looking away in embarrassment, rolling up his sleeve to expose a pale, lean arm.

Gilbert kept his eyes on his friend, slowly reaching out and gripping the thin hand. The blond's hand was cold, but not shocking to the touch; rather lukewarm, as if he could be warm if he just materialized fully. He lightly ran his fingers up and down each finger, tracing the long digits and pressing their palms together. Pursing his lips, he observed the size difference. Matthew's hands were slightly larger, with longer fingers, but more delicate. His own were wide, with scars crisscrossing the fingers.

Matthew was watching him now, eyes wide and cheeks hollow. His hand trembled slightly, but otherwise remained where it was, fingers substantial and _there_.

The moment was ruined when Gilbert opened his mouth.

"This is like the whole Jane and Tarzan thing, right?"

Matthew flushed and retracted his hand quickly before remembering their agreement and leaving it between them. "Fuck you, don't compare me to a woman!"

"I'm totally the hot monkey dude, though!"

"Raised by apes, you got that right." Matthew grinned and reached out to flick the albino's nose, making it wrinkle in annoyance.

"You need to learn to appreciate having the awesomeness that is me touch you, peasant. It is an honor and a privilege to have a Prussian grace you with his presence, not to mention hold your hand." Gilbert adopted a haughty expression. "Clearly you need to be thankful for what you have. I know I am."

Matthew rolled his eyes. Gilbert kept his ego as well fed as his pet canary, a fat little ball of fluff affectionately named Gilbird whose favorite place to be was on his namesake's head. The bird had joined them in the store once, only to be promptly shooed out by an allergy-prone Toris.

"I'm not going to swoon, if that's what you're after."

"Damn, and here I was thinking I'd get a lapful of cute Canadian." Gilbert winked roguishly, and Matthew couldn't help but redden.

"Shut up."

"_Nein_."

A staring contest followed. Matthew was rather good at them, having grown up with Alfred - also known as Master of Impromptu Contests. He narrowed his eyes. Gilbert, sensing possible defeat, leaned in suddenly and grasped the sides of Matthew's face.

"Gil!"

"Yes, Mattie~"

Matthew reddened further at the nickname and tried to pull back, but Gilbert tightened his grip slightly and forced their foreheads together. It was a strange sensation, the conflicting warmth and chill. Even their eyes - a bluish violet and a stunning red - made for an incredible contrast. Gilbert felt a shiver go through him, not entirely because of the temperature. Not liking the strange, uncomfortable feeling in his stomach, he decided to break the silence if not his gaze.

"What do I feel like?"

Matthew spluttered for a moment. "Eh?"

"What." Gilbert loosened his grip slightly. "Do." Leaned forward just enough so their noses bumped. "I." Breathed out. "Feel like?"

There was a pause, a long one in which Gilbert suddenly regretted initiating such an intimate position and nearly pulled back, before Matthew finally lost his slightly dazed expression and spoke.

"You're warm. Tingling. Like I can feel again."

There was something undeniably warm in his eyes as well, and Gilbert found himself both elated and terrified in seeing it. He withdrew his hands and leaned back to balance on them, a smirk plastered on. The staring contest was forgotten.

"I am pretty hot, aren't I?"

Matthew, unmoving, held his gaze for a moment longer before slouching and dropping his eyes to his ratty sneakers. "Sure. Whatever you like." He didn't say much else, and it wasn't long before he suggested an excuse for Gilbert to leave.

Gilbert left the bookshop that day feeling as of something very new and fragile between him and Matthew had been brushed away like a cobweb. He couldn't name it, but he sure as hell knew what Francis would say about it, and cursed, kicking an empty milk carton before clambering onto his motorcycle.

Just his luck to go and develop feelings for a ghost boy trapped in a bookstore.

* * *

_Sigh...I actually don't like this chapter all that much. The playful dialogue I'm used to is rather at odds with their more soft spoken interactions. This is what comes from writing a series of oneshots that progress but not in actual chapter fashion._

_A review a day keeps writer's block at bay!_


	3. Secret Garden

_I just want to take a minute and thank everyone who has read, favorited, followed, and reviewed this story. The feedback has been absolutely amazing and completely unexpected, and I hope you all know that you encourage me to keep posting these silly stories of mine. C:_

* * *

The bookstore was their sanctuary. That special place sequestered from the rest of the world that wasn't complete without both of them there in it. It didn't matter if there was always someone at the front desk, and occasionally other customers who gave them strange, searching looks before leaving with their children's classics or autobiographies or teen romances - it was theirs.

Rather ironically at best, of course. Matthew couldn't leave, no matter what they tried.

("Gil, I swear to you on my own grave that I am not made of ectoplasm and will not fly through the window. No, I'm serio- Put me dow- Ow! Fuck, Gil, what the hell?! I'm going to be feeling bruises for a week!")

("No, this one will work! See, we can totally summon a ghost judge or St. Peter or someone who will release you from your...ghostly chains, and then we can ride off on my motorcycle together! You can stay in the basement with me and totally play pranks on my family! Roderich's the most fun, but I bet you could sneak up on Luddy and Feli and throw a bunch of condoms on them just to embar-"

"Gil."

"Awesome plan, right?"

"Shut up.")

("Okay, I did some research this time. If you just tell me where you're buried, I can dig up your bones and burn them, and that should detach your spirit...why are you looking at me like that?")

Matt still found himself surprised when Gilbert continued to show up at the bookstore's door, sometimes empty handed, sometimes loaded down with various methods of entertainment, but never without a large grin. He rarely arrived before noon, of course, and had ended up staying the night so many times that Arthur finally waited for his arrival one morning and interrogated him about "just what the hell he was doing to his sweet little bookshop?"

Gilbert had explained, with a straight face, that he was in the midst of a huge master thesis, and if Arthur could please order as many books with examples of objectified women in comic books, it would be extremely helpful, thanks. The more graphic the better.

Arthur had reddened and stomped behind the desk, ignoring Gilbert's insistant claims of the project being one hundred percent legitimate, and, "Mein Gott, Artie, are you really that anti-feminist? I expected better from you!"

Right, Arthur.

Matthew had known for years that Arthur Kirkland, owner of _Cover to Cover_ and the most British man he had ever had the chance to make the acquaintance of, could see him. The man could supposedly see mythological crestures as well, and occasionslly held conversations with them when he thought Matthew was preoccupied. The ghostly blond wasn't really in any position to judge, even if he had never seen any such creatures as Arthur described, dead or alive, but the Englishman never made any objections to his existance and therefore he refrained from commenting.

Arthur even stopped minding Gilbert after the first few months - "minding" meaning "attempting to throw him out with shouted complaints about the books strewn across his floor" Matthew was a tidy and polite person, and Francis a persuasive boyfriend, and Arthur eventually relented.

Despite all of these interruptions, Gilbert and Matthew's relationship bloomed. At first, they completely avoided the outside world and any topics related to it. This proved difficult quite quickly, especially when one day Gilbert stormed in, ignoring Toris' weak protest that the door hinges were getting worn, and began reorganizing the piles of books with startling vigor. The tight line of his lips, angry click of his jaw, and dark look in his red eyes made it obvious that he was pissed beyond belief.

That day, Matthew had learned a great deal about Gilbert's family and friends, and how Gilbert felt stuck between not being taken seriously and being ignored, or a combination of the two. This was explained in much more colorful language of course, once the stony silence was broken, but Matthew felt he had understood the gist.

A similar situation occured when, one rainy day, Gilbert came over to find the store locked and Matthew barely visible in the back corner, scrunched into a tiny ball and shaking uncontrollably.

After successfully kicking down the door and joining the blond on the floor, Gilbert was soon let in on some details of the Matthew's life and death and how he knew it was stupid, and childish, but it just wasn't _fair_.

(Matthew didn't tell him that a good part of this tirade was because he was very aware of their relationship and its limits. Gilbert would grow older, grow bored with him, and he would be left to perpetually wander the bookstore until it closed, or until Arthur passed it on to someone else, and it was just all too depressing to bring up - so instead he swallowed the lump in his throat and tried very hard to enjoy the time with Gilbert he had.)

Breaking the delicate wall between the bookstore and the outside world did quite a number on both men. Understanding where each was coming was certainly not necessary in understanding the person, but Matthew felt his heart ache a bit when he heard what Gilbert had done for his younger brother as a kid, and Gilbert felt more than a few butterflies at Matthew's sincere caring for others even when it went unnoticed.

It wasn't long after both experiences that The Incident happened.

They were debating some mundane thing, Matthew slouching against a bookshelf and Gilbert standing next to him, gesticulating wildly. Later, neither of them could remember what they had been talking about, because what occured next was just too distracting.

Gilbert got in Matthew's face, flicking his nose and babbling about something - Matthew had no idea what. He was a little preoccupied with how close Gilbert's eyes and Gilbert's lips were, and the idea of how they might feel on his own. He had promised himself, after several distracting experiences, he wouldn't think of his friend in that way, but when his friend was annoyingly attractive and annoyingly sweet (in his own way) and annoyingly only inches away...well, it was rather difficult.

The albino seemed to notice Matt's sudden flush and dazed expression, and instead of leaning back as expected, he narrowed his eyes and took a step forward to nearly stand on Matthew's toes.

Coming to his senses and turning an even darker shade of red, Matthew made to step back, but found he couldn't quite manage when Gilbert was looking at him like _that_.

There was a pause, a moment where they considered each other, eyes examining every feature.

Then, slowly, both leaned forward.

The kiss was rather short, with at least two nose bumps and Matthew's glasses pressing into his cheek, but it left them both with a warm, tingling feeling that spread to their toes and quick, pounding hearbeats that brought a flush to their cheeks.

"So..." Gilbert rubbed the back of his neck. "Do you want to do that aga-"

Matthew tugged him back in and answered his question.

* * *

_Ah, thank you again, everyone! I'm sorry this took so long, school started and things were just a little insane for a while. The formatting of this chapter is a little funky, and I apologize for that, but it covers a rather large time span and I wanted to make sure I made that as clear as possible._

_Reviews are rays of sunshine to my day c:_


	4. Not Fade Away

The Incident was taboo, the Forbidden Forest, the large and extremely awkward elephant in the room. Both Matthew and Gilbert tried very hard to pretend it didn't happen.

(Rather difficult when Gilbert came home beaming delightedly and proceeded to roll around giggling with the dogs, but his brother reserved his judgement and patience.)

Admitting it would mean admitting something had and was going to change, and the situation was just too complex for that. So they tiptoed around the matter, as well as each other's feelings.

(Even more difficult when Matthew was stewing moodily one day and ending up ranting to a distracted Arthur, and continued even after the British man practically handed him a pile of paper work and asked him to help check the childrens' books records.)

And Gilbert became frustrated quickly. He wasn't used to having such substantial, romantic attachments in the first place, much less ones with so many complications. But dammit, he _wanted_ Matt! He wanted him sitting beside him, sides melding while meaningless and soul-searching words passed between them. He wanted him under him, above him, all encompassing and burning, tingling heat. He wanted fingertips filling the spaces between his and curls brushing against his cheek with all the sweetness the Canadian possessed. The feeling both scared and exhilierated him from tip to toe.

It was getting worse by the day. Antonio diagnosed him as a lost cause. Francis nearly sobbed and demanded to know every dirty detail.

Matthew, on the other hand, nearly felt sick to his stomach. How could he possibly subject Gilbert to any kind of relationship like that? It wasn't fair to him! And it wasn't fair to Matt. He wished he understood his situation more, whether he was in purgatory or had to head toward the light or if he was doomed to lurk in a musty book store for eternity. At least then he could make some sort of plan.

But nope. The afterlife sucked.

This opinion was only confirmed later when Gilbert had stared at him defiantly, about to return home for the evening, and after only a moment of hesitation swiftly leaned in to kiss him again.

Matthew recoiled, blushing furiously.

"Gil, you can't...you can't do that."

"Why not?" the albino groaned in irritation. He was sick of the awkwardness that grown up between them. "I liked kissing you and apparently you did, too, and I want to do it some more!"

"You know why it's impossible!" Matthew insisted, balling his fists in his sleeves.

"It's not impossible!"

"Yes, it is!" Matthew nearly shouted in frustration, his voice cracking. "I'm dead! You're alive! I'm not actually here, I can't even leave the store, and you'll be forced to move on! It's not worth it!"

Gilbert growled and shoved his way past the slouching blond and crossing his arms, the movements sharp and angry. "It's not just about the kiss, Mattie. I want you to be mine. I want us to be a thing!"

Matthew followed him. "A thing."

"Yeah, a thing. A thing, a couple, those really annoying people that you hate seeing because they're so damn cheesy. Why can't we do those things? We practically do them already!"

The Canadian stared at the ground unseeingly. "Because it will only end. It's not right for me to indulge in something like that, and for you to be tethered to this place because of some semi-solid person."

Gilbert lunged forward and grabbed him by the shoulders, forcing eye contact.

"Listen to me, and listen good," he hissed. "Three words."

Oh please oh please not those three.

"I. Don't. Care."

Matthew blinked.

"Maybe it won't last forever, but I'm damn sure that I'm going to make it last as long and as much as it can. And if that means dragging my ass over here every day and night to spend time with you, then I fucking will. Got that, Matthew Williams?"

Instead of looking like he was choking back tears, Matthew's face was twisted into a sort of amused grimace. He had thought this through over and over again, but his arguments seemed to have deserted him in the face of Gilbert's, and he couldn't deny that he desperately wanted a relationship with Gilbert, a real one. "How romantic."

Gilbert grinned. "Yeah, it's fucking romantic. Who do you think I am? I'm not going to abandon you just because you're stuck here, or because you're kind of insubstantial."

"And you can leave and take a break if you want to, you know." The Canadian smiled shyly, determined to make their book store as comfortable as possible. "We could get a couch or something, brighten this place up. I'll get the hang of staying real."

"As long as you're here and can entertain me," Gilbert joked.

"Even if I didn't have to be," Matthew promised.

"So that's an 'Okay, Gil, get over here and make out with my face now,' right?" His words were confident, but his eyes betrayed his uncertainty and worry.

"I don't feel comfortable about it," Matt confessed, half smile falling. "But I can't exactly stop you, and I want to be...a thing, too. So, yeah. Yes."

Gilbert's grin stretched to manic proportions, and he took Matthew's blushing face between his hands and began trying to cover every inch of blushing skin with sloppy kisses.

The front door cut the enthusiastic display short as it hit Matthew's ankle and caused him to whack Gilbert's nose with his forehead.

"Oops," Arthur deadpanned. "Didn't see your PDA there."

Gilbert groaned loudly, holding his nose and muttering curses under his breath.

"Oh, uh, Arthur...Sorry, we were just-"

"Save it." The Englishman held up a hand and strode behind the counter. "I don't want to deal with any mortal-undead relations. Just don't get them all over my books. But Matthew, I want to speak with you for a moment."

Still holding his nose, Gilbert pouted.

"Sure," Matthew agreed, shooting the albino a warning but affectionate look.

Arthur ushered him behind the counter, shooing Gilbert to the other side of the room and lowering his voice. "Look, lad, I've been doing some research on...your kind. And I don't want to interfere with whomever you chose to have relationships with, but-"

"With all due respect, Arthur," Matthew interrupted, not wanting to go down this rather guilty road, "Gilbert says that he wants to go through with it and he realizes the drawbacks. I understand them, too, but...We're prepared to deal with them."

The bright green eyes flashed. "Don't interrupt me. It's no concern of mine what you two want to do with yourselves, but I did find out one thing that you should he informed of before you make any decisions." He sighed and ran a hand through his choppy hair. "You're fading, Matthew. You've been around for over ten years, and with residual memories fading away, you're losing ties to this world."

Matthew's breath caught.

"I don't know how long it will take, but..." Both pairs of eyes briefly flicked to Gilbert, who noticed the attention and made a lewd gesture. "Sometime soon, you're going to fade altogether, and you won't exist here anymore."

Matthew quickly turned back, leaning heavily on the counter, but nearly pitched forward after a mere second of solid contact. Staring at his hands, he noticed they were shaking. it was too late - he was already fading, and had been for some time. He was going to just fade away into dust, like his body lying under the gravestone.

And he would never see Gilbert again.

* * *

_Three apologies:_

_One, to end a chapter like that. I promise the ending will be good, but before there will be some light angst._

_Two, for taking so long, which was completely unintended. Applications, worrying over applications, and actual classes have had me completely stressed and unmotivated. Which brings me to my last apology..._

_I'm a bit out of practice. Most of my recent writing has been in essay, not fanfiction, form and PruCan especially is not my strong point at the moment. But I'm working on it, and I've got loads of ideas that will hopefully become realities!_

_Oops. Sorry again for the long author's note. Reviews are motivation! _


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